L'Amie de l'Abaissé: A Girl of the People
by The Victoriana
Summary: A kindly grisette finds Eponine in trouble and helps and befriends her. She later becomes involved in a relationship with Courfeyrac and through him, eventually gets introduced to and involved in the work of Les Amis. This is my first attempt at fanfic.
1. Chapter 1: Bienfaitrice

L'Amie de l'Abaissé - A Girl of the People

Paris, 1830

Chapter 1

It was on her way back to her lodgings from Mme Verne's dress shop late on a freezing winter night that she heard the shrieks. They were the cries and sobs of a young girl, clearly in pain. A man's voice cursed obscenities that could be heard between her pleas and cries. The sounds came from down the alley that Marianne was passing by on her way home.

She knew it had been foolish to walk on her own so late at night, but she couldn't find a friend willing to accompany her, and she hadn't been able to finish the three dresses she had been assigned to complete until late that evening. She knew she had to bring them to the shop before the proprietress closed up and retired for the night, or she wouldn't get paid in full for the day's labor. Mme Verne was a stern taskmistress and demanded that her seamstresses finish all of their work on time by the end of the day, or they would get paid only half or less of the day's wages the following morning. She had made it just in time as the lady was just turning out the lights in the front room and retiring to the back where she slept.

Marianne knew it was even more foolish, some would say crazy even, to stop in front of the alley and slowly make her way down it closer to the sounds, but she could not help herself. The girl was still sobbing and crying and, as she moved closer, she could hear the lash of a whip on flesh. She flinched and clutched her thin shawl more tightly around herself. She knew she should simply leave and make her way back to her lodgings as fast as possible, but she could not make herself move away. She was never one to stand by while another person was suffering, and she hated the strong taking advantage of the weak simply because they could.

She crept stealthily down the alley, and as she turned the corner, she saw them. A girl lay on the ground her face turned away from her tormenter and her hands thrown up to protect her head. The man who stood over her brought down his whip on her back and the girl shrieked again in pain, louder this time. Marianne wanted to help the girl, but she didn't know what to do. She was not physically strong enough to restrain the man and she didn't know what else she could do to stop his assault on the poor girl. She could only watch in sympathy and pray for the man to stop and leave.

The girl pleaded again, and this time she could hear her muffled words. "Please, please, stop," she begged, "I'll do it next time, I swear. I won't refuse him".

"Don't you ever dare disobey me again, you little whore," the man snarled with another vicious flick of his wrist, "or I'll have you thrown on the streets for good".

"I won't, I won't" the girl cried. Finally, the man relented and after a final vicious kick to her chest, he stopped beating her and straightened up.

"You can spend the night outside. It'll do you good," he remarked with malice, before entering the tenement building behind him and slamming the door closed. There was the click of the latch and then silence.

The only sounds left were the girl's muffled sobs as she lay still on the hard-packed snow. Marianne, feeling a bit sick to her stomach hurried over to the girl's prostrate form and, after a moment of wondering what to say, asked "Are you alright?"

The girl's sobs abruptly stopped and she turned quickly over, startled to see Marianne leaning over her.

"Wh-who are you? Wh-what do you want?" she stammered out between gasps of air.

"I just want to help you," Marianne said soothingly. "Do you have any broken bones? Can you stand up? "

The girl shook her head at the first question and shrugged at the second. "You'll freeze to death if you stay here like this. Come, let me help you up," Marianne said firmly, sliding her arm under the girl's shoulder and lifting up to urge her to her feet.

The girl reluctantly obeyed and let Marianne haul her up slowly, flinching as she straightened up. Marianne could feel wetness across her back and she knew it was blood, not melted snow.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night? Any money?" Marianne asked, though she doubted the girl had either.

The girl shook her head and her lips twisted as she replied bitterly, "Nowhere but the streets. Or under the bridge, if I can find a man there who'll have me."

Marianne's stomach twisted uncomfortably at her words. Though the night was dark, from what she could see of her, the girl couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. What a wretched life she must live, she thought unhappily.

"Come with me then," she said, gesturing out of the alleyway.

"Where?" the girl asked somewhat suspiciously.

"You can stay with me for the night," Marianne replied.

"What do you mean?" The girl's eyes widened as she stared at her. "You would take me in?" she asked incredulously. "A complete stranger?"

"Of course," Marianne replied. "You are hurt and have nowhere else to go. If you try to sleep on the street, you'll freeze to death". And though she did not say it, she would not leave the girl with no choice but to whore herself out to a stranger for the night to sleep in a warm bed.

The girl stared at her for a moment longer and then nodded jerkily. They started walking then, Marianne directing their movement and gripping the younger girl's arm and moving slowly, as she saw she was clearly still in pain and moved stiffly.

Marianne hoped her landlady would be asleep by now. She did not know what she would say to convince her to let the girl stay in her room for the night. She would likely demand an extra fee for the extra "lodger", even if Marianne shared her own room with the girl, and the Lord only knew she was barely scraping by as it was.

She looked down at the younger girl beside her again. "What is your name?" she asked.

"Eponine. Eponine Thenardier," the girl replied without looking up.

"I am Marianne Larousse," Marianne said.

The girl- Eponine- said nothing in reply, and they walked on a little farther in silence.

As the two girls reached about halfway to her lodgings, Marianne suddenly noticed that Eponine was shivering more and more violently. Her raggedy dress was even more thin and threadbare than her own and ripped in several places, exposing quite a bit of skin to the chilly night air.

"Here," Marianne said, ripping her shawl from around her shoulders and thrusting it at the younger girl, trying not to notice the bitter cold sting of the wind on her bare shoulders.

Eponine stared at her oddly for a moment again, but grabbed the shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders tightly without a word.


	2. Chapter 2: The little match girl

Chapter 2

The two girls reached Marianne's lodging house in silence. Marianne opened the door to the building and was relieved to note that the landlady was nowhere in sight. She had no doubt retired for the night. Marianne led Eponine up three flights of stairs up to her garret, opened the lock, and lit a candle and then lit and stoked the fire in the hearth, nearby which was a small pot of water.

"Come," she motioned to Eponine, still standing uncertainly in the doorway, to come forward. "Let's wash your wounds."

Eponine stood still and unresisting as the older girl stood behind her and slid her threadbare dress gently off her shoulders and down her back. She wore nothing else underneath the dress. Marianne could see criss-crossed welts all along her back with some dried blood crusted along the newer wounds. She sponged the blood off as gently as she could, though Eponine made no sound or protest through her ministrations. Marianne wrapped a clean cloth around the girl's back as a bandage and then sponged off the tears and grime off her face. For the first time, she got a good glimpse of the younger girl's visage.

Her face was painfully thin and pinched-looking, as was the rest of her body. Her eyes were a bit wide set and a dark brown color. She had a small nose, a rather wide mouth, and Marianne noticed that two of her top teeth were missing.

Marianne had a small pallet in the corner of the room, and she removed from this two blankets and a thin pillow. She arranged them on the floor beside her own pallet and bade Eponine lie there for the night. Eponine, still silent, lay down on the sheets, but kept her eyes open, gazing blankly at the ceiling.

Marianne left the fire burning low in the grate (it would be far too cold to sleep without it) but blew the candle out. She drew her own dress over her head until she was left only in her chemise and drawers, and then settled into her own bed.

* * *

For a long while, Marianne lay awake, thinking of the younger girl lying so close beside her. She had never had another person stay in her room overnight except for a scant few times several months earlier when she had had a lover for a brief time. She knew Eponine was still awake.

She wondered if she had done the wise thing. After all, she knew absolutely nothing about the girl. She quickly decided however that she did not regret her decision. She could not have left the poor girl outside on her own and been able to live with herself. She had never been able to understand how those passing by on the streets, bourgeoisie, students, and workers alike, could simply turn the other way and pretend nothing was wrong when people were starving and suffering in front of them. Marianne had never been able to turn the other way. She always tried to give something to the little gamins who begged her for food on the streets, even if all she had to spare was a sou or a little piece of bread. Her father, when he was alive, had always said she had a soft heart for those in misfortune.

She remembered a fairy tale her father, a liberalist printer, had once read to her when she was a small child. It was about a little match girl, who, cold and shivering on a freezing winter night, was trying to sell matches to passers-by, none of whom would spare her a second glance. For hours she stood on the pavement, trying to sell her meager wares, but refusing to go home, for she knew she would only be beaten and scolded there and sent to bed without food, and it could not be much warmer there than here outside. Finally giving up, the little match girl curled up near a shining shop window and began to light her matches, one by one, until they were all burnt out, and she saw her grandmother beckoning to her from heaven. The next morning, she was found frozen to death.

Marianne had always cried at the end of this sad story. "But papa, why did no one help her? Why would no one buy her matches or give her money or let her warm herself?" she had asked tearfully.

Her father had sighed and replied "Many people simply find it easier and more convenient to look the other way rather than acknowledge and try to help those who are suffering around them. It is the way of the world, child."

"But," he said looking at her young face intently, "you must never turn your back on those who look to you for help. You must do what you can for them, even if there is little you can offer, for you never know when one day you yourself may be one among them, the miserable ones".

Well, she was nearly one of them now, she thought with a sigh, and she had just helped one who was clearly far more miserable than she was. She drifted off to sleep with this bittersweet thought.


	3. Chapter 3: Questions and Confidences

**To give credit where credit is due, the story mentioned in the last chapter is, of course, _The Little Match Girl_, by Hans Christian Andersen. It was first published in 1848, so yes, I am unrepentantly manipulating dates a bit to suit my purposes. This is one of my favorite childhood stories of all time and, ever since I read it for the first time when I was five years old, its bittersweet simplicity has never failed to touch me.**

**I've also added names to the previous two chapters and will name my chapters henceforth. I find I like it better when chapters have names :)**

Chapter 3 - Questions and Confidences

Marianne woke at dawn as usual the next day to the sound of the birds and morning vendors outside her window. She was startled at first when she saw a strange girl lying asleep on the sheets on the floor beside her, but then she remembered the previous night.

She followed her morning routine quietly, washing herself and slipping on her dress and then relighting the fire and setting the kettle to boil for tea. She came back to Eponine and gently shook her awake.

Eponine moaned and turned over, still asleep. Marianne cursed as she saw that she had forgotten about the blood stains on the back of the girl's dress. It was dry by now, but it must have been wet and sticky and uncomfortable during the night. She would have to let Eponine borrow her dress for the time being. She slipped off her daily work-day dress and put on her only other dress- the less-worn one she usually reserved for when she went out.

She went back to Eponine and shook her awake again, this time calling her name. Eponine's eyes snapped open at the sound of Marianne's voice, and as they settled on her, they held a look of momentary confusion and disbelief. Then she seemed to remember where she was and a wary, closed look settled on her face.

"Wash yourself and change into this," Marianne said, thrusting her older dress at the girl. Eponine's eyes widened in surprise again, but she took the dress and did as Marianne instructed. There were two chairs in the room and Marianne motioned Eponine to take one of them as she handed her a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits and then sat on the other chair with her own cup.

Marianne sipped and watched as Eponine, momentarily distracted from her study of her benefactress of the previous night, gobbled down the biscuits hungrily and washed them down with the weak tea. Then there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments as the two girls covertly regarded and assessed one another.

Marianne finally broke the silence, saying, "You must tell me about yourself."

Eponine gazed steadily backed at her and shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"Was that your father?"

"Yes."

"Is there anyone else who lives with you?"

Eponine nodded. "My mother and younger sister."

"Why was he beating you?" asked Marianne, more softly this time.

Eponine was silent for a while, and for a moment, Marianne thought she would refuse to answer her.

Finally, in a dull voice, she replied, "Because I refused to see his friend."

Another short silence, then, "He's involved with a gang, and as part of an agreement, one of the men has access to me whenever he chooses."

Eponine spoke without inflection or emotion, but Marianne felt her stomach clench at her admission. She had suspected something like this from what she had heard from the exchange last night between Eponine and her father, but it was still difficult to listen to.

"How long has this…arrangement been going on?" Marianne asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral as Eponine's.

"About a month."

"Will your father take you back now?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go back?"

Eponine's face twisted with bitterness again. "It's not as if I have much of a choice is it?" she bit out. "After all, I suppose it's better to be used by one man than all and sundry on the streets," she said sarcastically.

This time, Marianne, could not keep her acute sympathy for the girl from showing on her face.

"I don't want or need your pity," Eponine snapped angrily when she saw Marianne's expression.

Marianne nodded, and then said, "You don't have to go back."

Startled, Eponine looked back up at her.

"You can stay here for now. We'll come up with something."

Eponine stared at her disbelievingly, but Marianne merely turned away and took up her needle and her sewing work for the day. She had to complete three men's shirts and a dress that day and she had no time to lose if she wanted to finish before nightfall.

After several minutes, Marianne began to find Eponine's unfaltering gaze on her disconcerting. As she finished a seam and bit off the thread, she looked up and asked, "Can you sew?"

Eponine shook her head.

"Not at all?" asked Marianne incredulously. When Eponine shook her head again, Marianne said impatiently, "But surely your mother must have taught you as a child. At least the basics - to mend things?"

"I was spoiled as a child by my mother. I never did any actual household work, though I did attend school for a few years," Eponine explained.

As Marianne pondered this rather unfortunate information- she had naturally been expecting that Eponine would help her with the sewing work if she was going to live with her for a time- she found herself listening as Eponine haltingly began to describe more of her past.

Eponine explained how her father had been an innkeeper in Montfermeil. Her mother had spoiled her and her sister while leaving most of the household drudgery to another little girl left in the Thenardiers' care. The other girl was taken away by a man, and soon after, when she was around eleven years old, some financial troubles had forced the family to sell the inn and head to Paris. In this city, Thenardier made his way by forming an alliance with a gang of thieves. Since these changes, Eponine had suffered much from starvation, cold, neglect, abuse from her father, and recently, the forced arrangement with one of the gang members and his abusive use of her.

When Eponine had begun her narrative, she spoke haltingly and hesitatingly, but as Marianne listened in silence and without judgment, quietly sewing away, the girl spoke more quickly and smoothly, as if unloading some kind of heavy weight off her chest. When she finally finished, Marianne looked up and saw that Eponine's cheeks were flushed red and her eyes slightly swollen, but she tactfully made no comment, though her heart went out to the girl.

A few minutes later, Marianne set aside her work and stood up, stretching. Absorbed with the girl and her sad story, Marianne realized that she had forgotten to purchase the daily paper, _Le National_, which she habitually read in the morning with breakfast. It was the only liberal daily in the region that was well worth reading, in her opinion, and she liked to stay on top of the politics and news of the day in spite of the extra cost. It was also nearly noon and she thought she might as well purchase bread and meat for lunch and dinner. She pocketed a few coins from her money jar and, telling Eponine she would be back after purchasing the paper and some food, she left the room.


	4. Chapter 4: Temptation

Chapter 4 - Temptation

Eponine stared at the door after Marianne had left, dumbfounded, her mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Had the grisette really just left Eponine alone in her room with her money and belongings? Eponine didn't know if the older girl was stupid, crazy, or both. In fact she scarcely understood her at all. What could possibly be her motivations in taking her in and allowing her to stay? A complete and utter stranger. A ragged, half-starved gamine. What did she mean by feeding and clothing her with no obligations or demands? And then, she had simply left to go out, leaving Eponine in the room with the door unlocked, her only other dress on Eponine's shoulders.

Eponine had never encountered another person so openly accepting and trusting. Well, no, she had met one. Monsieur Marius still lingered in her thoughts and dreams. He had nearly always spoken kindly and politely to her, as if she had been a young lady and not a poor ragged girl of the streets. He had even offered her five francs once, though she had let it drop in an attempt to show him that she still had her pride and cared for him and not his money.

But this girl- this Marianne- she had done even more for her than Marius had, offering her food and shelter and letting her stay with her. And even more importantly, listening sympathetically to Eponine's pathetic life's story, genuine compassion and warm understanding in her dark brown eyes. Eponine hadn't meant to blurt out all that she had about her past and her misery and troubles of the present. But the look in Marianne's eyes had been so kind, so sympathetic and understanding. Not at all like the contempt and cold pity she saw in the eyes of the bourgeoisie or the students or even the laborers when circumstances forced her to go begging in the streets.

She had found herself telling Marianne almost everything, and though she rarely cried anymore, tears had come to her eyes in the retelling of her miseries. She had never confided in anyone like this before. Not even Monsieur Marius. She felt shaken to her core.

What should she do? Surely this was all a joke and Marianne would pop back in and kick her out of the room any minute now. Perhaps the grisette was even now going to tell her father where she was and leading him to her. Maybe she had a lover who would try to pimp her out as a whore and take her earnings. Her apparently selfless kindness surely couldn't be genuine, could it?

Eponine searched the room with her eyes, noting the money jar she had seen Marianne take the coins from. She mechanically walked over to it and shook out the coins. There were so many. She counted them out. There were nearly thirty francs in it!

Eponine could barely wrap her mind around such riches. If she left now with the money and the dress on her back, which she could surely sell for at least another five or six francs (it was a bit worn but sturdy and well-made), she could live comfortably and make it last for weeks, maybe even months!

Eponine felt such temptation as she never had in her life before. This money would mean months without her father's beatings and Montparnasse's sickly use of her body. Maybe (though deep inside she doubted it) she could even teach herself to sew and get a job as a seamstress before the money ran out.

Her mind raced. She remembered Montparnasse's last visit the previous week. She had recently met Marius for the first time and her thoughts had been full of him and his gentle voice and kindness. She had wondered what it would be like to be loved by such a man and held in his arms. When Montparnasse had marched up to her, dragged her to his room, pushed her roughly to the bed, and tore off her dress without a word, ugly reality had clashed so horrifically with her girlish daydreams of Marius that, for the first time, she had protested and struggled against Montparnasse and what he was doing to her. This had had made him furious that she would dare to resist him, and he was all the more violent and rough with her, leaving her body bruised and bloody when he was through.

Eponine had run from his room back to hers and cried for the first time in weeks. She had sworn she'd never let him use her like that again, whatever the cost. She deserved better. Marius' respect and polite courtesy had convinced her of this and restored some of her long-buried pride back to her. So the next time she had seen him approaching her this week, she had deliberately run and hid herself from him. Apparently Montparnasse had told her father about her disobedience the previous night and that was why Marianne had found her as she had being brutally beaten and thrown out by her father.

Eponine came to a decision. She thrust the money into the pocket of her own dress and rolled it up under her shoulder and left the room. She ran down the stairs and onto the street, praying that she wouldn't come across Marianne on the way. She knew the streets of Paris as well as any gamine of the streets and walked quickly taking turns here and there down side streets and alleyways, trying to put as much distance between herself and the grisette's lodgings as she could.


	5. Chapter 5: Eponine's Betrayal

Chapter 5 – Eponine's Betrayal

Marianne felt pleased with herself as she walked back to her lodgings, the newspaper, bread, and meat in her arms. She smiled as she imagined how Eponine would look when she presented the mutton chops she had bought from the butcher's. She knew it was extravagant of her to buy meat, but she had been touched with keen sympathy in listening to the girl's story and wanted to bring some brightness to her face and to fill her empty belly. Although older in years, Marianne had only ever experienced mild hunger before, and could only imagine the sharp hunger pangs Eponine surely suffered on a daily basis. The girl was so thin. Marianne would enjoy watching her fill out a little. She walked up the stairs and entered her room, Eponine's name on her lips – and then stopped abruptly when she saw the room was empty.

She had been so completely unsuspecting, so trusting, that it took a few moments for her to register what had happened. She saw with a sharp pang of shock and disappointment that the shelf where her money jar had stood was empty. Marianne lay down her goods abruptly and sank heavily into her chair. She cursed herself and her blind trust and good-natured naiveté. Of course she should have expected this to happen. She prided herself on being fairly intelligent and discerning. How could she have been so stupid as not to expect a half-starved, ill-treated and mistrustful gamine to abscond with her money and dress when she had left a jar full of money right in front of her eyes and the door wide open? It was practically like asking for trouble to happen.

The money had been the last of the savings she had had left from selling off her father's print shop after paying off his debts two years ago at his death. Towards the end, readers and subscriptions had dwindled, as more people began to fear retribution from the government if they were caught with liberal and traitorous papers and pamphlets, and her father had to borrow more and more money to make ends meet, even as Marianne struggled to keep the shop open and the press running as her father succumbed to his consumption. Now she would have no buffer if she fell ill, no money set aside "for a rainy day", as the saying went.

However, Marianne felt a much keener disappointment than she would have felt from the loss of the money alone. She had liked the young girl's intelligence, personality, and fortitude in the face of her difficulties and had been looking forward to taking her under her wing and enjoying her company after living in solitude for so long.

She felt a surge of anger and frustration born from Eponine's betrayal. She had certainly done nothing to deserve it and indeed had treated the girl with great kindness and generosity from the very beginning of their encounter. However, most of her anger gradually passed away and was replaced largely with regret. She tried to step back and look at the situation rationally from Eponine's point of view. She could see how it might be very difficult to trust in a stranger's kindness if everyone, even (or especially) those closest to oneself inflicted only cruelty and neglect. In such a world, the only way to survive was to trust no one and grab onto any chance that came one's way. At least it showed Eponine's spirit had not broken and that she was still fighting to make a life for herself.

What would Eponine do with the money? Or more relevantly and importantly, what would she do when it was spent? It might keep her for a couple months at most. The girl seemed to have no useful, practical skills that were actually marketable enough to earn her money - after all, she couldn't even sew! Marianne sighed and looked out the window, wondering where in the city she was by now. She had barely been gone twenty minutes, but the girl could be anywhere by now in that time.

"I would have helped you, you know. You should have trusted me," she murmured, half to herself. She took up her sewing again resignedly and resumed her work.

* * *

Crushing the last remnants of her conscience beneath her heel, Eponine used her stolen coins to purchase some bread, and then, in a fit of extravagant and final defiance, also bought a mutton chop from a butcher's shop and gobbled the food down greedily with tea at a café. She resumed walking, and, feeling she had put enough distance behind her, started to look about to secure lodgings for the night.

She paused at a boarding house that seemed likely and inquired of the lady within of the price. The woman looked dubiously at her and eyed the bundle of rags under Eponine's arm suspiciously. It was her old dress- the only thing she had carried with her, and in which her money was still hidden.

"And that's all you've got with you?" the landlady, a thin-lipped, sour-looking woman, scoffed.

Eponine made no reply. She knew it would look a bit suspicious, but she hadn't thought that she would be subjected to such scrutiny as long as she had the money.

"I can pay," she tried again, "in advance, if you will tell me the price."

The woman's mouth curled with scorn and distaste.

"I know your type. You can't fool me with your grey dress. This is a respectable boarding house, not a cheap brothel," she spat. "Now get out, before I call a gendarme to throw you out!"

Eponine, bitter and hurt by the rejection, left abruptly. Apparently, even money wasn't enough to buy acceptance if you still looked disreputable enough. Although she'd changed into Marianne's dress and washed her face, she still resembled a street urchin with her painfully thin form and face, her stringy unwashed hair, bad teeth, and general unhealthy, malnourished appearance shaped from years of deprivation and bad living. Even the poorest grisette would likely look far better and healthier than she did. And she would have more baggage than a bundle of rags.

Eponine spent the next couple of hours searching for other lodgings. She tried another one further from the center of the city. The landlord gave her a once-over look, taking in her bedraggled appearance, and coldly announced there were no rooms to let, and that she'd best take herself off elsewhere, as this was a respectable district.

Well, at least he hadn't called her whore to her face, Eponine thought cynically. She marched on as the sun began to set and tried her luck at a couple other places, again meeting with no success. The owners looked over her with suspicion and then derision and claimed they were full, speaking to her as if she were less than a dog and unworthy of their notice, even when she showed them coins to prove she could pay.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the shadows began to lengthen, Eponine found herself wandering back along the Seine, once more full of dejection and bitterness. The one person in her life who had offered her succor, unconditional acceptance, and a home when she had not a penny to her name or a single thing to commend her had been the one she had chosen to steal from.

She had seen her father and his cronies break into houses dozens of times without doing anything to stop them, and she had picked many pockets in her time, but never had she felt so awful about her actions. Those had been cold, rich, and disdainful strangers - bourgeois who reviled and scorned her when she passed them in the street or begged for a sou from their full purses when she was starving. Marianne was a hard-working, poor grisette; one who gave unstintingly and without reserve or judgment to those less fortunate than herself in spite of her own meager resources. Marianne's room, apart from the saved money, had been nearly as poor and bare as her own. Eponine remembered Marianne's face, suffused with warmth and sympathy as she listened to her and unhesitatingly offered to let her stay, and how she had left Eponine in her room to fetch them food with complete trust in her voice and features.

In the twilight, Eponine found herself wandering the familiar streets again, alone, cold, and exhausted, and feeling empty inside.


	6. Chapter 6: A Second Chance

Chapter 6 – A Second Chance

Eponine knocked on the door, her stomach knotted with apprehension.

"Come in," came the young woman's gentle voice.

Eponine pushed the door open and saw Marianne sitting by the fire, reading a book, her dark brown hair loose and spilling forward, hiding her features. She looked up as Eponine entered silently, and for a moment her face registered surprise, but then it became calm and smooth again.

"You came back," Marianne said calmly, stating the obvious.

"Yes," Eponine nodded, unable to find more words or explanations.

"Why?"

"I had to bring you back this," Eponine said stiffly, holding out Marianne's dress with the coins pooled in the center of the folded cloth. She had changed into her old dress again in a deserted alleyway.

"I only spent one franc for food," Eponine explained quickly, "the rest is all still there. You can count it out if you like."

Marianne accepted the dress and money and got up to pour the coins back into the money jar without counting it.

When the silence became unbearable, Eponine asked abruptly, "Are you going to call the gendarmes?"

"No. I have no love for the gendarmes," said Marianne with a wry smile.

"It was brave and honorable of you to come back and return the money. I am very glad you did," she said, turning back to Eponine. She held out the dress again.

"Here, change back into this."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Eponine stammered out, completely confused and bewildered.

Marianne looked at her squarely in the eyes, her own amber brown eyes intent and honest.

"I'm giving you a second chance, Eponine," she said quietly. "Be my friend, and we will start over again. We will act as if this never happened between us."

Marianne held out her hand, her eyes and demeanor open and inviting. Eponine hesitantly clasped it, still not completely believing what had happened, but trusting Marianne's honesty this time, as she had been unable to do previously. Marianne's face broke into a smile and she pulled Eponine gently into an embrace. Eponine tensed at first, but then relaxed against her, feeling strangely comforted. They stood like that for a moment, and then Marianne released her and gently shoved the dress at her again.

"Go on now, change. Honestly, that dress is not fit for anything but cleaning rags right now," she said with a laugh.

"I've still got some dinner saved for you," Marianne said later, pushing some bread, cheese and a mutton chop towards Eponine.

"Oh, mam'selle, I don't deserve it, I really don't," Eponine cried out, touched, her chest constricting again with guilt as she remembered spending Marianne's stolen money and greedily buying a mutton chop for herself and thoroughly squashing her conscience.

Marianne shushed her impatiently and pushed the food back towards her.

"I said we would let bygones be bygones," she chided. "And call me Marianne, not 'mademoiselle'."

* * *

Marianne watched Eponine eat silently, feeling glad and relieved that she had returned and approving of her bravery in doing so.

"Where did you go?" she asked after a while, curious.

"After eating, I tried looking for lodging," Eponine said, finishing off the meat. "I tried nearly half a dozen houses and was rejected each time."

"Why, if you had the money?" asked Marianne, surprised.

Eponine gave a hard laugh. "Apparently I looked so ugly and disreputable, they thought I was a _fille publique_, or something like that. I suppose I should not have expected them to accept me just because of the money, but I thought money could buy anything. It usually seemed to." She shrugged. "They're not far from the truth about me though," she added looking away.

Marianne shook her head. "You're not ugly, you just need to be fattened up a little and engage in healthy habits," she said with a smile.

"As for the rest," she added more seriously and intently, "what happened in the past is not your fault. It is your father and those who mistreat and scorn you who should be ashamed, not you."

Eponine listened carefully, absorbing her words.

"But not finding lodgings was not the reason you came back," Marianne continued. "You might not have been able to lodge at the better houses or streets, but you could certainly have found rooms of lesser quality elsewhere."

"I know," Eponine admitted slowly. "I came back because I realized your honesty and kindness were genuine, and I had to return your money to you." She shook her head, "I didn't expect at all that you would take me back in, but I just couldn't wrong you anymore. Not when you were so good to me." She swallowed and looked away again.

"Good people do exist, and so does goodness, Eponine," Marianne said quietly. She took Eponine's hand and the girl turned back to her and looked in her eyes. "You have goodness and integrity in you, or you would not have had the inclination, let alone the courage, to come back for such a selfless reason. Embrace it in yourself from now on and you will find purpose and contentment, and your life and the lives of the people around you will be the better for it."

Eponine pondered this as she and Marianne prepared for bed and before she fell asleep that night.

* * *

**And so ends my loose parallel with the Bishop/Valjean story. I hope people noticed it before reading this. :) Of course, there are many differences. Marianne, unlike the Bishop, is no saint (and not particularly spiritual or religious), and I hope she doesn't sound like one. She is just generous, kind, and mature, but she has many faults as well. And of course, Eponine comes back of her own accord. It was difficult to write, but I just really wanted to make this parallel between two female characters to see what it would be like.**

**More updates will come soon. Happy reading!**


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